Remembering our Hero's
by Tia Bella
Summary: A/U story telling Rodriguez's story from his POV. Set long before the books. Different from normal stories, but please give it a try. First story, please R R, thanks.


A/N. This is an A/U story from Rodriguez's POV. It is completely fictional although I fear it is all too close to reality in places. I hoped to post this on Remembrance Sunday (UK), but it's a day late. Written for our brave service men and women in the hope they never have to go through this.

I would like to say a huge thank you to my Beta Jude (JudeCairnsmom) whose advice and guidance has improved this story no end. You're brilliant.

Darkness. Silence. Unconsciousness.

Darkness. Distant sound, beeping. Unconsciousness.

Darkness. Beeping, closer now. An alarm? Pain. Unconsciousness.

Darkness. Beeping next to my head. Stupid alarm. Try to shut it up. Agony. Unconsciousness.

Darkness. The irritating noise is still there. Movement. Pain, not agony. A voice.

"You're safe. Sleep." I obey. I cannot prevent it.

I lay still, trying to access myself and my surroundings. I ache all over, my right leg is agony and my chest feels wrong. I try to move my muscles to twitch my fingers and toes, but just that small movement causes pain and it has drained me. I hear the alarms going again. Where am I? I hope that's not a duck and cover warning, I don't think I could manage. I hear a commotion, people moving around. I still to let them think I'm still asleep until I know it's safe. A hand takes mine and I try not to flinch away from the unfamiliar contact. The hand is smaller than mine and not as rough, delicate, feminine. Then I hear the voice from my dreams.

"It's ok, you're in the Mile O'Callaghan Federal Hospital in Nevada in America" It's the voice of an Angel, my Angel and the words are heaven. I'm back in the US and safe. I'm still alive although the pain is there, but it's the being alive that matters, I can and will heal. The others I wonder, where are they? And how the hell did we get back?

The last thing I remember is being in Afghanistan on a mission. There were 10 of us. We had been away for months trying to complete our task; we were nearly ready to finish it. Had we finished it? Where are the others and what happened to us? Or was it just me?

The voice continues "If you can hear me I want you to squeeze my hand." I feel the hand in mine move, as if to remind me it was still there. I didn't need the reminder, I was cherishing the feeling. "Squeeze once for no, twice for yes, do you understand?" I do as instructed and I am surprised to discover it doesn't hurt that much. "Good. As I said, you're safe. You have a tube down your throat to help you breathe, which is why you can't talk and your chest may feel a little strange, don't try to fight it. Are you in any pain?". The answer for that is simple, I squeeze twice.

"Ok then, we'll get you more pain meds to help with that then we'll try and get rid of that tube" That's a relief, the feeling of the tube down my throat forcing me to breathe is unlike anything I have ever felt before. The hand in mine tries to pull away. I don't want it to go. My Angel. I hold on as tight as I can in my weakened condition. It stops trying to pull away – She stops trying to pull away. I feel a hand brush my forehead in a gesture of comfort. I wish I could open my eyes and see her.

"It's ok, relax. I'll stay with you if you want me to." I squeeze her hand twice, was I want her to stay. I feel myself start to relax and my whole body feels lighter. As I feel myself drift I hear her continue to talk to me, telling me I'll be ok.

"Ok, Soldier, the doctor is going to remove this tube for you. I need you to take in a deep breath on the count of three then breathe out. As you breathe out the doctor will pull the tube, okay? Good, there may be some slight discomfort as it comes out, just try to stay calm and relaxed. Are you ready? One, two, three, take a deep breath in and breathe out." Jesus, Mary, Joseph and the holy donkey. That hurt! That is not slight discomfort; it feels like they're trying to pull my esophagus out with it! It causes me to cough, which causes more pain in my chest, left shoulder and stomach.

"Deep breaths. That's it" My not such an Angel says. I feel something cold against my dry, chapped lips. "Open up, it's an ice chip, it'll help your throat" she slips it in and as the first drips of the icy water glide down my throat it eases it and I let a groan of appreciation at the soothing effect escape my throat. It feels and tastes so good! The last drink of water that I remember drinking was boiling after being out in the baking desert for hours and tasted of chemicals thanks to the purifying tablets we use. Nothing has ever tasted as good before or since as that first ice chip did. I decided to reinstate her as my Angel.

"Better?" she asks

"Much. Thank you." I try to say, but it comes out as a barely audible croaky whisper.

"Don't try and talk, your throat needs time to recover. I know you probably have questions, but for now you need to sleep. You'll feel much better afterward." With her hand in mine I let the medication help slip me back into a dreamless sleep.

The next time I awaken I feel so much more alert. After the initial panic I remember where I am and I try to open my eyes but with no success. I lay listening to the beeping of machines; there were more than just the machine next to my head, and people shuffling around and their quiet chatter. After a few minutes I hear someone walking towards me.

"How are you feeling now?" my Angel asks.

I'm more concerned with the rest of my buddies I was with so I ask "The rest of the men I was with, are they here? Are they ok?" I hear her breath catch slightly and I begin to fear the worst, if they were ok surely she'd be able to tell me and if they weren't here she'd tell me that, so what was she not telling me?

"I'll just go and get someone who can answer your questions" and before I can ask her more I hear her quickly retreating footsteps. I feel so frustrated! I am left alone for what feels like hours before I hear two sets of footsteps approaching, one was the light footsteps I had come to associate with my Angel, the other was harder, and it sounded like hard soled shoes. I move to face towards where they were approaching from and put on my expressionless mask. I know whatever is coming will not be good.

"Leave us!" a commanding voice barks harshly. I assume he's not talking to me, leaving could be difficult. I hear the lighter set of footsteps turn and leave. I recognize the voice; I had heard it ordering me around often enough. It is my Captain, Captain Blakely, I bring my hand up into a salute and I try to raise my body to stand when I feel a hand pushing me back gently on my right shoulder.

"At ease Lieutenant" I hear him say, I'm pleased, I'm not sure I'd be able to stand no matter how much he yelled at me. My right leg hurts worse than any other injury I have had, and I've had a few. "I've been told you have some questions?"

"Sir, yes Sir" Just a few.

"I will tell you what I can. Your unit went over an IED that exploded. Four of your men survived the initial blast in sufficient condition to ensure your survival, eliminate the threat and get everyone out of there. I hope I need not remind you about not speaking about what happened?" Jesus! I don't remember what happened and I'm in no state to be talking about it.

"Sir, what about the others, you said four were ok? Who and what of the others?" I wouldn't normally dare question a superior officer, well except from Manoso, but I had to know.

"Brown, Tank, Manoso and Simmons were the initial survivors that got you out. You and Santos were both critical but now stable. I'm sorry Hill, Dragon, Snake and Irish didn't survive the initial blast. Simmons had unnoticed internal injuries and by the time he got help it was too late and nothing could be done to save him."

I couldn't believe it. They were like brothers to me. We had gone through Ranger training together and that is something that bonds you, it is one of the toughest things you will ever go through. I also grew up with Manoso, Hill and Snake; we joined the Army together and then moved to the Rangers together. We had met the others at the Airborne school and bonded over our live of life in the forces and the upcoming ordeal we knew we would be going through at Ranger School.

Straight after our graduation we had had a moment to see our families before being loaded into a bus and being taken to Fort Benning for the first phase of training. The training we went through was physically and mentally draining and 50% of the men there dropped out by the end, I know I considered it and the only reason I didn't were the men around me, my brothers. And now after everything we had gone through, the hell holes we had trawled through on the behalf of the US government, five of the best men around had been killed by an IED made by the Taliban. In that moment I had never hated a group of people, I am not in anyway racist but they killed my brothers and I will make them pay!

"Do you know when the funerals are Sir?"

"I'm sorry soldier, Hill and Snake's were held a couple of days ago in Newark, Dragon's and Simmons were both held yesterday in their home towns and Irish is to be buried tomorrow in Ireland as per his families wish. They were all buried with full military honors and Irish's family has been presented with a flag at a memorial held today at Fort Benning. I've just come from there. They were good soldiers." I wanted to scream at him, they were much more than just soldiers they were people. They weren't supposed to die before they turn 21! I couldn't even go to their funerals. How long ago had the explosion happened? What day is it? And why the hell can't I open my eyes? "I need to go speak to Santos it was good to see you Rodriguez." I heard him stand and turn before walking away from me, wish I could say the same I thought to myself.

The whole day was one of the worst of my life. Finding out about my brothers and then they gave me news of my injuries. My right leg was gone below the knee, destroyed in the explosion to the extent they had no option to remove it. With it went my future in the Rangers, oh I'm sure the army would find a use for me if that was the only issue; I had certain skills that they could utilise, but that wasn't what I wanted. I knew that my life in the armed forces were over, and who knows what else a trained killer could do in the civilian world, I couldn't even work in security after all how was I supposed to chase people missing half a leg.

My leg wasn't my only problem, I had massive bruising and my left arm was fractured in two places, I also had 2nd degree burns over 60% of my body. I was lucky there had been very little damage to some crucial places and most of the burns would heal without leaving scars, but it was going to be painful for a while as it healed. Apparently a burns specialist plastic surgeon had been in to have a look and had determined that it would be best to leave it as it was with basic pain killers, antibiotics and anti-inflammatory medication to control it as well as aloe ointment to help with healing.

But the worst is my eyes. I had severe damage to both my eyes and the doctors weren't sure how much, if any, of my vision I would recover. They have to wait until I can sit upright to have a full exam to look at the damage and that is going to take a few weeks. I hate the feeling of helplessness; I need help with almost everything, the only thing I don't have to worry about is going to the bathroom, because currently I don't need to thanks to some tubing that I prefer not to think about. I try to look on the bright side, I am alive and the doctors have said I will be able to get a false leg so I will be able to walk again. If my sight recovers at least partially I will be able to get contacts or glasses so I can see and I will be able to live an almost normal life.

The guys and my family were great. I was moved into a room with Lester at our request. He had similar burns that needed the same treatment as mine and several of his bones were broken. He looked like a mummy I was told, and I looked forward to seeing the pictures. We were able to support each other and Lester gave me a running description of the nurses, apparently they were all hot. The other guys came in when they could. They had been stuck having debriefings about the mission before being given some time off before they prepared to go on what was hoped to be their last mission.

I was over the moon to be having my Angel as my nurse. I discovered her name was Ehlana and she was from New Jersey, she had always wanted to be a nurse but decided rather than working in a regular hospital she wanted to help look after injured service men and women. It wasn't always easy for anyone around me and it hadn't taken long before people stopped coming to see me, the only exceptions being my family and the guys.

Being in the forces is all about survival and a major part of that is being able to be independent and watching your own back and the backs of people around you. It is hard when you lose that independence, the feeling of venerability; I know Lester has bad days where he gets frustrated at his immobility. Yet his struggle has been made easier by knowing that in a couple of months he will be able to get back into training and get back into the gym to get back to how he was.

Keeping happy and looking on the bright side is not always easy. Over the two months I have been in the hospital I have lost control of my emotions twice. The first time was the day that I was first told to feed myself, not an easy task with one hand and no sight. It was so frustrating! I felt so frustrated. I had taken everything in my stride up until that day, more like bottling up, showing your feelings is not encouraged in the Army or Rangers, it can get you killed. The first attempt to pick up whatever the hell I had been given did not go well, I missed the tray completely. With a little guidance I managed to find out where it was but I struggled to get any of it on the spork I was using, let alone into my mouth. My frustration grew, and the more it grew the worse the attempts got. The final straw came when I misjudged and stabbed my hand and I'm ashamed to admit I lost all control, I had to be sedated to prevent me from hurting myself or any of the others.

The second was the first time I actually felt the end of my right leg for the first time. I knew what had happened, but a part of me had hoped that they had it wrong or they were winding me up. They weren't. And the reality was harder to deal with than I thought. I had to be sedated again.

Over the two months I was there I slowly began to heal. My eyes were improving slowly, but I still had to wear patches over my eyes for most of the day, apart from the regular cleaning and eye drops, the worst parts of my days and nights. But at least they were improving and the prognosis was that I would be able to recover some of my sight and glasses would become a part of my life.

The one time I could see clearly was in my dreams. I relived the nightmare of that night every night. Most of me hated it, seeing my brothers die over and over again, but a small part of me was glad that I could see. I know Lester was also suffering the same, at night I'd awaken to his screaming or crying. Yet we never spoke about it, no words could covey the horror, pain and anger we felt.

Over the two months I was there I slowly began to heal. My eyes were improving slowly, but I still had to wear patches over my eyes for most of the day, apart from the regular cleaning and eye drops, the worst parts of my days and nights. But at least they were improving and the prognosis was that I would be able to recover some of my sight and glasses would become a part of my life.

A few days before we were both due to be released the guys broke the news to us that they were being sent out on another mission, they couldn't give us the details, something we understood and respected, and they would be leaving in a week for their briefing. It was proposed that we would all go on a night out when we were released, to celebrate our release, have a drink in memory of our lost brothers and a farewell drink for the guys going out again.

I have never been so nervous about going out. I know it's just going to be a couple of quiet drinks in a local pub, but it still filled me with dread thinking about leaving the room. I know part of it is the worry of being blind in a place I don't know around a lot of people I don't know. The rest of it is what others are going to think. I'm not a vain guy, but I have always been aware that I attract a reasonable amount of female attention. I'm 6ft 2" with black hair, bright green eyes and naturally tanned skin. Since joining the forces I have also gained a lot of muscle, or at least I had, being restricted to a bed for two months has meant I have lost a lot of muscle mass.

The day of the night out I spent the whole time thinking of ways to get out of what was happening. It didn't work. At lunch time we were both discharged and the guys picked us up, surprising us with having a 2 North Tower Deluxe rooms booked at Ballay's hotel on The Strip in Las Vegas. After our discharge we went down to where the guys had their rental cars, black Dodge Durango's, waiting for us to take us to the hotel.

The journey from the hospital to hotel was not the most comfortable. The first task was getting into the car. Over the last couple of months I had got used to being manhandled to where I need to be, although I still hate the feeling of helplessness, turns out that it's easier to move someone around a room than to get them into the car. Once the issue had been solved we were on our way. Another effect of my injuries showed itself in a rather embarrassing way on the normally 50 minute journey in the form of motion sickness. It was not something I had ever suffered and it was one of the worst journeys I had ever had to travel, worse than some of the plane journeys in ancient aircraft hitting air turbulence that makes you wonder if you'll ever make it to the intended destination. It ended up taking us an hour and a half apparently, although not having sight meant I could no longer keep track of time myself.

The eventual arrival at the hotel was a relief for all of us and the transfer from the car back into the wheelchair went smoothly, as did the check in and going to our room. I felt nervous the whole time, senses alert, listening for any sign of danger, unable to relax until I heard the door to the hotel close and lock. I would be sharing with Tank and Bobby, the reasoning being Tank was strong enough to move me with Bobby there in case there were any accidents. Lester and Ranger were sharing the adjoining suite and after they put their stuff into their room they came through to ours and we spent the rest of the afternoon talking, laughing, and remembering.

One of the guys had brought supplies of alcohol with him, I wasn't sure who and once we got through it all the decision was made to get ready and hit the local night life. Getting ready to go out was an interesting experience. It took Tank, Ranger and Bobby to manipulate me and get me dressed into slacks and a shirt. There was a moment when everyone realised that where my leg should have been filling the leg of my trousers it wasn't, causing it to hang down. It was Bobby who came up with the solution of pinning it back with safety pins so it would not catch on the wheels.

I still wasn't looking forward to being out in public again, just going from the hospital to the car and then the room from the car was hard enough, and this would be even tougher. I could feel the anxiety building in my stomach, making me feel sick, although that could also be the alcohol I'd consumed.

We began the night in the Indigo Lounge, but we left after one drink. It was rather posher than what we were aiming for, with cocktails and live piano music it wasn't suitable for our more rowdy behaviour. Leaving the hotel we went across the road to Sully's, it came recommended by the hotel and it was within easy stumbling distance back to the hotel when we had enough.

I felt the change as we moved onto the road to cross it before going back onto the pavement, presumably just outside the bar as I heard an unfamiliar voice and my chair was halted abruptly.

"You soldiers? Those two ain't coming in." The voice said. The tone was not friendly and held a taint of disgust. I wished I knew who he was talking about. I heard Ranger answer.

"What of it? He's with us and he is coming in with us" I had heard him use that tone before, it never ended well. The anger was very well veiled, but I knew him, and the others knew him so well that we could hear it, even if the stupid bouncers didn't. I wished I could see, if something was going to happen I didn't like being the weak link, completely vulnerable. "Santos" I heard Manoso say, his voice calmer with a warning in it.

Frustrated of not knowing what was happening, what got Manoso so worked up, who they were refusing to let in "What's going on ?" I asked quietly of whoever had been pushing me. I hadn't liked the implication of the guy asking if we were soldiers. Despite the sacrifices we made in the service of our country there were those I knew who had been discriminated against because they were in the service. I had hoped being close to a military institution that this kind of prejudice would not occur.

"Fuckin' bouncers won't let us in. Think we're gonna cause trouble" Tank stated, his voice hard "Like you and Santos are in any condition to do anything" Ah, so it was me and Santos he had a problem with, no wonder Manoso had needed to give Santos a warning. I could imagine Santos wasn't too happy right now, and even with his crutch he's not as limited as I am, he also has a quicker temper. I was not too happy either. Do they not realise the stuff we've been through, the things we've done so they can carry on living their lives? And they wouldn't let us in to have a few drinks in memory of our lost comrades? Who the hell do they think they are? I could feel my pulse beginning to race, my muscles tensing, waiting for the opportunity to lash out.

"You ain't coming in, that's final" I heard another new voice say, "We don't want the sort of trouble you bring. We know what you're like, you come in and fight with anyone". So much prejudice.

"Lads, let's go. Suddenly I'm not in the mood to deal with incompetent ignorant idiots like this. Let's go back to our hotel and celebrate there" Brown cut in. He was right. We had done enough fighting, today was about celebrating life and it shouldn't and wouldn't be tainted by these prejudice cowards.

I felt my chair being turned as we returned to the hotel. We made our way back to the hotel bar and the atmosphere felt so much better and more appropriate than it had. It suited our mood perfectly and we spent the following hours talking about the guys who were no longer with us, but who should have been.

Our anger at the bouncers was not forgotten, but put aside to be dealt with on another day. Maybe one day when we had recovered sufficiently we would return and be what they were fearing we would have been. If only they had realised that not all servicemen were the same, and just a word in our ear would calm us and earned them more respect than the two tonight could ever win.

The rest of the night and the following days were spent smiling and enjoying ourselves as much as we could with the knowledge of what was to come in the near future, the fear that the guys leaving on their mission would never return. The sadness and pain bowed to and then moved on past as our emotional wounds were let open into the air and given the chance to start to heal over.

The following day I was taken to a rehabilitation centre in Maryland for injured servicemen to recover the use of my limbs and eye sight as much as I could. It was a long, painful and frustrating journey, but a year after the accident I am as good as I am going to get. I can see, although I need glasses and with the aid of a false leg I can walk, so I am back in the gym trying to rebuild my strength. I am still conscious of the way I look, I have scars from my wounds and from the burns I had sustained, although they are getting better each day and I have been told they should continue to fade.

Since leaving the first hospital I have kept in contact with Ehlana and we have been seeing each other on a regular basis. She has been a rock for me to lean on when I never thought I was to get better. Although we are currently just friends I am hoping that in the near future we will be able to move into a relationship together.

Ranger, Brown and Tank got back from their final mission with only superficial damage that have since healed leaving them with no permanent injuries. Ranger has made the decision to set up a security company, Rangeman. He has offered all of us a place working in the company along with a stake in the company each. We are hopeful that with our experience that it will go well. I have decided that although I am mobile I do not want to be involved in the physical parts of the jobs and so I will be in charge of the sales and marketing in the company, falling back on the marketing qualifications I had gained before joining the forces.

I still miss the men we lost each day, and I know if they had not been killed they would have been a part of the company. Today is the hardest day, the anniversary of their deaths. I am on my way back to the Airborn School where we all met with Ranger, Tank, Brown and Santos in remembrance of them, and I know this is something that will become a yearly pilgrimage to pay our respects to our friends, our brothers who will be forever young, remembering our Hero's.


End file.
